


Night Wolf

by ShanaStoryteller



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Crossover, F/M, M/M, Oops, full wolf transformation, i've taken many liberties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanaStoryteller/pseuds/ShanaStoryteller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vague spoilers for WTNV episode 36. </p><p>Cecil is gone, Carlos is terrified, and his main form of communication comes from Stiles, a lieutenant in Tamika Flynn's army, and his wolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Wolf

Carlos used to think he knew fear. He equated it with low test scores and loneliness. Later, it was houses that weren't quite there and terrifying government officials. A beautiful pale man with violet eyes. That wasn't fear, not in comparison to this, it was petty and young and naive. He misses the comfortingly menacing Secret Police, misses the smile on Rico's face when he gets his weekly slice, misses Cecil.

He hasn't seen Cecil in twenty seven days, and he finally knows fear.

 

There's a kid sitting on his counter, and he's reaching for his scalpel before he's even fully awake. The kid raises his hands in front chest, but is the grin stretched across his face that stops him. He hasn't seen anyone smile and mean it in over a month. "Easy there tiger," he grins, "Cecil sent me. I'm a lieutenant in General Tamika Flynn's army, you have nothing to fear from me."

Carlos drops the scalpel, "You've seen Cecil?"

"Seen? Not so much," he shrugs, "No adults allowed in Base, no exceptions. Not even for the Voice of Night Vale." There's bitter undercurrent to that, and Carlos raises his eyebrows. He quirks half his mouth up in a smile, hopping down from the counter to offer Carlos his hand, "My name is unpronounceable to the human tongue, but everyone calls me Stiles anyway. My boyfriend, is twenty, so he doesn't qualify. We run missions together, but he doesn't come back with me - he's probably seen Cecil more than I have."

"Should you be telling me this?" Carlos's eyes dart around the four corners of his home, "You know they're listening."

Stiles snorts, "As if." He takes something out of his pocket, and it looks like one of those bouncy balls you used to be able to get for a quarter, except it's glowing faintly. "Lydia and Danny made this special - it confuses StrexCorp's data collecting devices. It's what they get for being so lazy. There's a _reason_ the Sheriff uses real agents to keep watch over people."

Carlos closes the gap between them and twists his hands in Stiles's shirt, and he knows that it's dangerous. This is one of Tamika's lieutenants, he could drop Carlos without breaking a sweat. Bur he allows his desperate hold, let's him get in his face to demand, "Do you know where the Sheriff is? We need him!"

"I do," Stiles hands are rough with calluses and tiny, jagged scars shine in the morning light as they settle over Carlos's, "but I can't tell you. It's classified."

"Do you know what we're going through?" Carlos hisses, frayed and worn and his temper all the worse for it.

Stiles rubs his thumbs over the back of Carlos's hands, and it's been so long since he's had a gentle touch that he shivers, "Of course I do. You're all in the middle of the warzone, and we understand, I promise. But we're the ones dying for you, we're fighting this war on the frontlines." Cecil swallows, and Stiles tugs him into a hug, and he can't resist, can't say no to any scrap of genuine affection. When they pull apart Stiles's face has hardened, "This isn't just a social visit. We need you to do something."

"Anything," he promises, voice gruff while he scrubs the sleeve of his lab coat against his eyes.

Stiles slips a vile from his pocket and hands it to Carlos, "We need you to analyze this, down to the last molecule. One of us will be back in a week for the results."

Carlos holds it up to the light, and it's mostly clear except for floating blue specks near the bottom. "I should be able to do that," he looks back down, and his kitchen is empty. He lives on the thirty fifth story, but he sticks his head out of his window anyway.

He catches half a glimpse of Stiles riding away on the back of creature that he thinks is a giant black wolf.

 

A week later there's a slim, beautiful girl with a bow strapped to her back in his kitchen. She's helped herself to his coffee while flicking through yesterday's paper (it's blank, it's always blank, but everyone acts like there's actual content) and for the first time since this nightmare began the coffee is the proper purple, instead of the depressed black which had seemed so normal it made him uncomfortable. "Hello?"

Her eyes flicker up to his, big and brown, while her smile curves around the edge of one of his mugs. She takes her final swallow before setting his mug down on the counter. "Hello, Doctor. You're Cecil's scientist, I presume? He speaks highly of you."

He laughs, because there's a spark in her eyes, inviting him to join in on the joke about the understatement she just made. "Can you tell me, is he all right? Have you seen him?" He lives with a low level hunger constantly, a gnawing in his stomach that he doesn't go away no matter how many slices of Big Rico's he eats. He always meets his daily calorie requirements, but his cheekbones sharpen and his lab coat grows on him in spite of this.

Fear is ravenous, and it's eating him from the inside out.

She softens, offers him her half drunk coffee as a peace offering. The porcelain is still warm when he cups his hand around it. "I haven't seen him personally, but he's alive. Derek saw him a few days ago, and he saw Stiles yesterday who told Scott that he was okay, and Scott told me that this morning." She shakes her head, because she knows how that sounds, but her big eyes are painfully earnest when she says, "He misses you."

"I miss him," he says, nearly speaking over her with his rush to get it out, his heart clenching with relief at the words he can't say at any other time, lest the wrong people over hear them, "I - I miss him."

Her grasp around his wrist is tight and sure and stops the mug from shaking, "You'll see him soon. Hopefully. But we need those test results."

He nods, leaves the cup on the counter while he digs them out from slipped between his normal readings. She kisses his cheek before tossing herself elegantly out the window. This time he's sure that it's a wolf she rides away on, and when this ends he's going to get an explanation behind that. Possibly accompanied by some x-rays and blood samples.

When this ends. He breathes deep and balances precariously on this newfound certainty, just in case it shatters beneath him.

 

He doesn't feel safe at home. He hasn't felt comfortable there since Cecil left, it's too big and empty, this apartment made for two, but there's an itching up his spine he can't shake. He opens doors expecting StrexCorp behind them, tries not to look at the lone mirror in their home because he's afraid he'll see Cecil trapped inside.

He recites pi while he opens his front door now, so he can't grasp onto these terrifying thoughts and has the strength to enter his home. He sleeps in their bed alone, except sleep is fitful and fleeting, and achieved only after hours of reciting chemical formulas to himself with his eyes squeezed shut. He's convinced he'll open his eyes to blank, pleasant faces and hands dripping with blood.

He has no evidence to support any of this, just the terror that's now his lifeblood and a paranoia he'd never the thought to claim before. He's losing his mind. 

He's yanked into the dog park on his slow tread home, Stiles's hand on his mouth until he's drawn them deep enough in that he'd be worried in other circumstances. "You're being watched."

"Thank god," he laughs, head tipped back, "oh, thank god. I'm not insane."

Stiles snorts, "You're dating the Voice of Night Vale - I wouldn't go quite that far."

"Is Cecil all right?" he grips Stiles's shoulders, maybe too tight because Stiles's wolf growls at him. He doesn't let go, but his grip loosens.

"Derek, heel," Stiles scolds, but his eyes are light when he looks at Carlos, "He's good - misses you like his right heart, but he's alive, safe."

Carlos blinks, "His what? He has a right heart?" He's fairly certain that's something he would have noticed.

Stiles's wolf makes a wheezing sound that Carlos is pretty sure means he's laughing at him, and Stiles rolls his eyes, "Well, not _anymore_ , obviously. How would he miss something he still had?" he asks, a little mocking, and a little honestly curious.

"Good point," Carlos says, and it's a little easier to breath, now that he knows his boyfriend's corpse isn't going to end up hand delivered on his doorstep.

The wolf growls, and Carlos fights against the urge to scramble backwards when it starts a grotesque, although impressively quick, transformation to a man. And, _what a man_. He's about a decade too young for Carlos, but if he wasn't desperately, creepily in love with his boyfriend he'd probably make a pass anyway. "We're wasting time. They're going to notice us," the - werewolf? - says.

"They will not," Stiles waves a hand in front of Carlos's face, "Hello, anyone home? I know my boyfriend's pretty and all, but if you could stop drooling over him that would be cool too. Or, you know what, his jaw line is kind of a work of art. So just treat him like a museum piece, look but don't touch."

Both of them are blushing from the neck up, and Stiles cackles. "What do you need?" Carlos coughs, dragging his gaze from the unfairly attractive Derek.

Stiles slides a packet out from inside his jacket, "There's a letter for you, from guess who. Read it here, and burn it. Also, we need you and your scientists to make a huge magnet. Like, gigantic. Lydia drew up the specs and they're also in there. Don't open them at home."

Stupidly hot Derek has transformed back into a giant werewolf, and Stiles is about to climb on when Carlos grabs his am, "Wait! You can't - I won't be able to get out of here alive if you leave."

"Dude," Stiles points to Derek, "It's a dog park, that's not meant for dogs. It's meant for - another flavor of canine. Trust me, you're safe here. Come and go as you please, they'll know you're under our protection."

Stiles darts forward to kiss him on the cheek, and his laughter almost covers Derek's growl as they bound off into the night.

 

_Dear sweet, lovely, perfectly imperfect Carlos,_

_I miss you every second of everyday. I dream of your arms around me, of your eyes, of your hair. I long for every inch of you, and it's such a tragedy every morning when I wake up bereft._

_I am stressed and saddened and lonely, but I am well. I hope you are well also - Derek tells me you are, but I fear I shall not be truly reassured until I have you back in my arms. This will be soon - I must believe that this agony of being apart from you will end soon._

_I will not ask after our beautiful town, for I know how terribly it fares well enough._

_I can't say more, but just know that I miss you terribly and you occupy my every thought._

_All my love and devotion,_

_Cecil_

Four weeks later, and it's all over. He caught a glimpse of Cecil at the beginning of the battle, but hasn't seen him since, although Allison and Stiles are bloody and beaming before him, their werewolf boyfriends an intimidating presence at their backs. "Good job on the magnet," Stiles says, trying to shake off some stray pieces of other people's skin.

His eyes flicker to the ball of broken corpses, but he can't stand to look for long, "I don't understand."

"The substance you analyzed," Allison shakes out her braid so she can wring the blood from her braid, "Tamika found it in the desert. New metal, special properties. We've spent the last six weeks stalking and tagging the management of StrexCorp with it. The magnet you and your team made is keyed to it, and voila! No more management. A hive without a queen."

"All that was left was to take care of the workers," Scott wraps an arm around Allison's waist, grin easy as he gestures to the bodies the citizens of Night Vale are cheerfully piling up for an offering to the glow cloud. "Not hard, really. It's going to be good for the town to get back to normal."

"Is Tamika all right?" he asks, stays where he is even though everything inside him is begging to go searching for Cecil.

Derek's arms are wrapped around Stiles's waist, and he was a fury in battle, and had an air of self control the one time they met, but now his face is slack with relief and his grip on his boyfriend is too firm to be casual. "Yeah, she'd good. She's with her brother, Boyd. They're hunting down a couple that tried to escape."

Carlos nods, is about to make his excuses and leave when a figure that he'd previously only ever seen from the corner of his eye back flips of the roof of the library and lands in front of them. If the balaclava, mitre, and cloak aren't proof enough, the obnoxiously large silver star inscribed with SHERIFF is. It's such a relief to have the sheriff back in Night Vale it's almost a physical thing. The sheriff cups Stiles's face in his hands, tilting it back until his head hits Derek's shoulder. Stiles smiles, softer than Carlos has seen in the past, "Dad, it's cool, I'm okay. Derek's been taking good care of me." The sheriff looks at Derek, who offers a small smile of his own. He pats the werewolf's head before pirouetting into the shadows and disappearing into them

"You're the son of the sheriff?" Carlos demands.

Scott snorts, and Stiles shrugs, snuggling back into his boyfriend's embrace, "Duh."

Carlos is strangely put out by this response.

 

He finds Cecil just where he thought he would, in the studio.  His beautiful, deep voice echoes through Night Vale, reassuring and comforting the populace as his familiar tones sooth away the terror from the past few months. Carlos slumps against the door, drinks in the sight of the love of his life. Cecil's voice stutters when he sees Carlos, and he's already half risen from his seat by the time Carlos has crossed the room to push him back into it. He straddles his boyfriend for the entirety of the news report, drapes his arms over his shoulders and presses his face into his neck, counts the beats of his pulse point like it's the answer to all his prayers.

As soon as the microphone has switched off his mouth is on Cecil's desperate and happy and broken, but his hands press against Carlos's ribs slide together all his misplaces pieces, and the constant gnawing in his lower belly is gone, Night Vale is safe (or at least only as dangerous as it was before) and he has Cecil, he can breathe again.

"I don't want to live in the apartment anymore," Carlos murmurs against Cecil's lips, "Let's move. Let's get a house, a proper house, okay?"

"Okay," Cecil breaths, and god he's hardly seen his violet eyes so bright, and Carlos wants to laugh and cry and dance but most of all he just never wants to lose Cecil ever again, "Thank god you're okay, thank every deity, if anything had happened to you-"

His voice breaks, and Carlos swallows the mournful sound with his own mouth. He leans his forehead against Cecil's, looks into his eyes and grips his shoulders, "You are the closest to religion as I will ever come, you are worth more to me and comfort me more than any of the thousands of gods that have been worshipped on this earth."

Cecil pulls him down for another hungry kiss, and Carlos never left Night Vale through any of this, and yet it's still such a relief to be home again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> hello all! I have no idea where this came from, so business as usual. i hope you liked it!
> 
> if you'd like to send me prompts, or follow/harass me you can do so at: shanastoryteller.tumblr.com
> 
> <3

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Night Wolf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1320385) by [Readbyanalise010](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readbyanalise010/pseuds/Readbyanalise010)




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